


Hells Hath No Fury

by Apostat3



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/F, Fantasy, M/M, Original Character(s), Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apostat3/pseuds/Apostat3
Summary: A thing I suspect I'll be working on for a long while. Set in my friend's DnD setting, it's about several of my NPC characters basically being the catalyst for events that I'll DM.





	Hells Hath No Fury

Lan'Azriel and Six crept down the long corridor, the only sounds being their tentative footprints which threw up dust as they went and the echo of Six's breathe inside his helmet. Six twirled his sword anxiously, readily awaiting some unknown adversary. Lan'Azriel kept a casual gait, but fidgeted with his staff. The walls were lined with crypts, whose inscriptions had long since faded or being obscured by the moss, cobwebs and dust which had overtaken the ruin. In fact, the floor was so thick with dust that the trail of their footprints was clear to see. 

“We're almost there, I think,” Six said quietly. Lan was relieved, though he hid it well. “That it, assuming the maps I studied were correct.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we are both hoping so, hmm?” Lan's reply was curt, and Six got the message.

“Very well, if this is how it is to be. Just don't forget who saved your hide, alright friend?” Six said.

“Hrmph. How could I ever?” With that, their conversation was over. 

The corridor had ended in a fork, with two doorways leading in different directions. Six chose one, and he and Lan slipped through. Inside was a vast chamber, with far more ornate sarcophagi lined up on either side of a path through the centre of the room. The rest of the space beyond them was filled with long tables, decorated with all the necessary components for a great feast, besides the food. The chamber was long, and at the end of the path stood and old throne, made of a dark metal which has long since lost its shine, which stood immediately in front of the largest coffin of them all. In the throne sat a skeleton, crumpling under the weight of the robes and crown still on his person. In one ornately jeweled hand it held an orb, and the other a staff. Oddly, despite its crumbling composition and unnatural position, it seemed to be staring right at them. 

“We take the orb, and then we leave this accursed place. Quickly. We have no idea of any magical wards that may be placed here.” Six's eyes were constantly moving even as he spoke, examining every corner of the room. With a few whispered words and a wave of his hands, a gentle blue glow filled the room for a moment, before fading away. 

“I do, actually,” Lan responded. “There are many. We must be swift and precise. Choose your next action carefully, friend.” 

Without responding, Six began to move up the room slowly, Lan in tow at a distance he judged to be safe. Six's grip on his sword tightened. Every little sound seemed so much louder than it had even in the silent corridors. His breathing seemed to fill his senses entirely. Tentatively, he approached the skeleton on the throne. Still certain it was looking at him, he knelt in front of it, staring long at it. Flexing his fingers on his free hand for a moment before moving, he slowly reached out then, with a sudden burst of speed, snatched the orb up. Expecting the worst, he tensed. For a precious moment, nothing happened. That is until everything happened.

There was an almighty cracking sound, echoing painfully loudly through the room, and a great fault appeared in the roof. The place began to shake, at first only a little, but it quickly grew more violent. With but a single look, the pair decided on their next course of action, and they simultaneously began the sprint for the doorway. Despite this, they were too slow, as a heap of masonry fell from the roof and blocked the doorway, a mammoth boulder of stone. They came to a halt before it, staring. 

“Can you get us out of here with magic?” Asked Six, turning to Lan'Azriel. 

“I'm afraid not. I expended my energy opening this place up. We shall have to find another solution.” Lan began to examine the rock and the door, looking for any gaps of weaknesses, but found nothing. Six sighed, shook his head softly, and drew up straight. 

“I've got an idea, and I'm very sorry.” Six said quietly, and Lan glanced back to look at him, confused. 

“What do you-” Lan didn't get to finish before Six disappeared before his eyes, channeling the power of his helmet to teleport himself - and himself alone - out of the room. Masonry was falling quicker and quicker from the roof now. “Damn you! 'Saved my hide’, what a joke!” He roared, but it was to no avail. There was nothing to be done. He sighed, offering the rock one final look before accepting that the effort was hopeless. He fell to his knees, then sat down, leaning against the rock blocking his path. He laid his staff down beside him. “Ha, I bet she'd know a way. My little escape artist…” he smiled softly, chuckling to himself, becoming lost in his own thoughts. So lost, in fact, that he didn't even notice the masonry crack and fall above him.

 

* * *

 

“Is this wise, good sir? It seems a waste of precious time and resources to have all these men here for just me…” Fenix edged backwards slowly along the beam, precariously balancing on the small piece of wood which held him high above the ground. He was sure that, up on tiptoe, he might even touch the clouds. “You can't even really kill me, did you know?”

“Oh, I believe we can, 'good sir’,” spat back the noble, Count Hemogoblin, as he advanced towards the edge of the roof. Confidently, too, given he was back by a dozen arbalests, each of whom were pointing their weapons squarely at Fenix. The young man smiled beneath his mask despite it. “I mean, come now, surely even a fool such as yourself can see that you are out of options, sir.”

“Count, you wound me!” Fenix replied, his smile so wide it was audible in his voice. The count bristled at the thought. “Do you truly think so little of me? Or is it just that you know so little?” Fenix was coming to the end of the beam now, and was holding his arms out half for showmanship and half for balance. 

“Well, why not enlighten me then, my friend? Tell me, what important information is it that you seem to think I should know about?” The count asked, and Fenix laughed a little. He reached up and pulled off his mask, his orange eyes flashing underneath his hood. He smiled one last time, the scar at the edge of his mouth twisting with the movement. 

“Why, I'm already dead.”

With that, Fenix leaned back, allowing himself to fall from the beam towards the ground below. The count rushed forward, as did his men, and peered over the edge to the street below. They saw nothing. 

“Damn it all!” He cried. “A blasted wizard, a fiend, a bloody ghost!?” He shouted angrily to the street below. However, no matter how loud he ranted or raved, Fenix was nowhere to be seen. Only the sound of his laugh hung in the air now - and, of course, the count's bawlings.

 

* * *

 

Tann sat at the bar, hunched over on her stool, minding her own business as she always did. She had learned long ago that there was really very little point in bothering to talk to the locals, as it was usually more effort that it was worth and left her feeling the urge to leave town and sleep in the underbrush more than usual. The only thing that kept her in towns, in all honesty, was the comfort of a bed and the security of the buildings. As it turned out, she was to enjoy neither that night. 

First came the sound of hoofbeats. Heavy and slow, though the number of horses made it sound more like one or two galloping. Tann heard them stop outside and tie up, but she gave it no thought. After all, it's not as though inns were an uncommon stop for travellers of all kinds. The men who entered, however, were most certainly not the average travellers. The men - whose group numbered six - were clad in studded leather, dark outfits covered in mean looking bolts and spikes. Indeed, their armour was no entirely dissimilar to Tann's, if only that theirs looked newer. Each had a sword slung at his side and a crossbow over his back. 

Their leader, a tall, burly man with arms rivalling the size of his pot belly, approached the innkeep behind the bar, whispering a few words. The colour immediately drained from the owner's face and, after a moment of silence, he nodded and pointed out a young woman in the corner. Without responding, the leader broke off from the innkeep, marched straight over to where the woman sat and loomed over her. 

“You are the one known as Sapphire, yes? The whore?” He barked. His voice came out like gravel. The woman turned about in her seat to face him, obviously bristling. 

“Might be, but I don't offer service to folks who talk like that. What you wantin’?” She replied, but the large man shook his head. 

“You are the one who denied your service to the good Count Hemogoblin's entourage, this is made certain by your rejection of me. By order of our good Count, you are to be punished for your insolence. Men, seize her.” Two members of his group advanced on her, and suddenly terror filled her face.

“What? No, hands off me, you mutts! Gonna kill me for refusing to do a man? Are you barmy?” She scarpered away from the two moving towards her, but found herself quickly penned in against the wall. She pressed herself up against it, as though with enough willpower she could simply phase through it. The leader stepped in closer. 

“We will not kill you, if you are compliant. We are simply to teach you the meaning of obedience. It would be better if you were to make this easy, and-” 

“Hey, you,” said Tann, who had since approached the group from behind. The leader turned to face her, and Tann was aware of the remaining three stepping around to surround her. She flexed out her fingers a few times. “dead wrong if you think I'm gonna let you take her.”

“And what business is it of yours, vagrant, what befalls this whore? Are you her best patron?” His men laughed, and the leader smiled arrogantly. Tann smiled back, a smile full of venom. 

“No. It's my business because… well, I reckon me and you are very alike.” Tann tensed, ready to move at any moment. 

“Oh? And just how are we similar?”

“Reckon I'm about to teach someone a lesson, too.”

Without waiting any longer, Tann kicked a chair from next to her straight at one of the men, blocking his path to her for a moment. In a flash, her sword was from her back to her hand and she whirled, stepping back in a spin and slashing up in a wide arc. Surprised and unprepared, the man took Tann's blade under his arm and it cleaved through, taking it right off. Continuing to spin, Tann came round again and this time removed his head. He barely had a moment to scream. 

Now the other two were upon her, and Tann barely had time to dodge backwards, narrowly avoiding a blow which would have shattered her skull. Taking advantage, she cut over the man's arm, catching him in the face and slicing across his cheek. She kicked him away and simultaneously swung at the other man, knocking his guard aside before spinning and driving her blade into his neck. She pushed the man hard with her free hand, shoving him off of her blade and to the ground. She came again at the one she had cut, this time delivering a blow to the top of his head, ending him. By now, their leader had sized her up and approached, and she ducked under one of his swings and parried another. She struck the man in the face with the pommel of her blade and, while he was stunned, grabbed his head and thrust her blade up through his chin. He spat blood, which landed on Tann's face and armour. She removed her blade and let go, letting his body crumple to the ground. She looked up at the remaining two, who were still next to the woman, and the pair quickly put their swords away. 

“Time we was going, I think, Miss. Let us past?” One asked. Tann stared long and hard for a moment before replying. 

“Go. Tell your count he is never to return. Tell him that the devils themselves rose from Hell and took his men. Can you do that?” There was ice in her voice, and the men clearly understood the message. 

“A-Aye miss. Devils. We can do that.” Without a word more, the two men fled the inn, jumping onto their horses and riding off as quickly as they could. When they had gone, Sapphire approached Tann. 

“I… thank you, m'lady. I don't know what they might have done if you hadn't…” she looked down at the bodies around her. Tann didn't reply, she simply looked across to the innkeeper and tossed him a few gold coins. 

“For the mess. I'll see myself out.” With that, Tann slung her sword over her back and picked her away across the corpse-ridden floor towards the door. She left the inn and kept walking until she left the town, until she couldn't see it anymore, until it was nothing more than a memory, and went deep into the night. Never once did she look back. 

 

* * *

 

For about the fifth time in the past hour, Morgan Holland checked his pistols, disassembling, checking, cleaning and reassembling both pieces. The whole time, his mind was only half focused on his task - he had done it so many times that it was practically muscle memory. No, his mind had wandered somewhere else. A hole it often enjoyed crawling down, a pitfall with no escape. Indeed, as he sat by his fire, out in the badlands with the oppressive darkness of night all around his lonesome self, Morgan Holland thought about the past. 

Silently, he considered all those who had passed. He thought about his mother and father, the people he had never known. He thoughts about Ada, the elven woman who had insisted on taking the newborn she found in the wild with her and raised Morgan as though her own. He remembered her sweet smile, the gentle way she spoke, her seemingly boundless wisdom. This time, he kept himself from thinking about the look on her face when she had died, or how her corpse had looked, fallen to the floor. He thought of Darr, his father figure and, for a long time, the leader of his gang. He remembered Darr's warmth, his charisma. Morgan smiled as he remembered being taught to shoot and hunt so long ago, in the woods by their hut. It was here too that Morgan met Amber and Maya, the other members of his gang. He tried his best to forget pulling the trigger on every one of them. Tried to forget what they had made him do for his family.

Mostly, though, Morgan thought of Rosetta. His sister, living far away from him now, likely missing him and he missed her. He remembered fondly the girl, with her kindness and compassion, with her fire and drive. She was like Morgan in that regard, he thought. She stood up for what was right. It made Morgan smile to know that, at the very least, he wasn't alone in the convictions.

His joy was fleeting, however. As it was every time he reminisced - which is to say each night. Because invariably, his thoughts always returned to Wintermere. If Rosetta gave Morgan reason to fight, then it was Wintermere who gave him the strength to. But now Wintermere was gone, just like the rest of them. Thusly, Morgan didn't know what to do. So, he cleaned his guns, again and again, until sleep eventually came to claim him, as it did each night. Morgan knew, at any rate, he would be back to thinking tomorrow night anyway, so it mattered little. 

 

* * *

 

El Renegado rubbed his wrists gingerly, trying in vain to remove the burns which the ropes had left there. It had taken him a long while to free himself of his bondage, and now he had the cell to worry about. It mattered little, however, for it was a well known fact that no prison could hold El Renegado. He stood and examined the front wall, stroking his styled goatee thoughtfully. On closer inspection, it proved to be no wall at all, but a magical barrier. El Renegado pressed a hand against it and quickly pulled it back, wincing at the burning pain. His face remained the image of confident composure, however, for it was a well known fact that no pain could phase El Renegado. Seeing that the barrier was a dead end for now, El Renegado turned his attention elsewhere. The three remaining walls were stone, sure enough, and the roof of the chamber was either very dark or very high, for he could not see the roof when he tried. He cursed his human eyes, and swore that he would find someone who could enhance them with darkvision, for then it would be well known that there was nowhere to hide from El Renegado. The back wall had a small grated window in it, but when El Renegado tried to reach through, he found that it was completely sealed over with compressed dirt. Interesting, he thought, underground, perhaps? It mattered little. It was well known that no cave, valley or mountain could hold El Renegado. 

“It is good to see you are at last awake,” Came a voice from the darkness beyond the barrier. Renegado turned to face it, but could see nothing. “It means we may finally speak.”

“I'll not speak to a coward who would hide in the darkness sooner than face me! Show yourself, man, and I shall judge your worth.” Renegado announced, puffing out his chest and placing fists upon hips.

“Ah, yes, but of course,” from the darkness stepped a man - nay, what was once a man - hideous in visage. His flesh was rotten, with a head of wispy brown hair, bared teeth and, in place of eyes, balls of fire glowing green. It would be enough to strike fear into any man's heart, but it was a well known fact that El Renegado felt no fear. “Better?”

“Ah, a fiend! A zombie, no less. Why, lower this magical barrier, and I shall show you what we do to abominations of nature such as yourself!” El Renegado's hand instinctively fell to his sword, but he found there was no blade there. However, maintaining his legendary composure, he did not look to see where it may be. The creature smiled.

“Only look down at your chest, sir, and find that you and I are not so different.” It said. Sure enough, when El Renegado looked down, he saw a great black swirl of energy in the center of his chest, and the flesh around it looked dead and grey, just as all of the man's was. 

“What have you done to me? Will this spread? I dare not imagine living while looking as you do. Speak, fiend!” El Renegado demanded. Again, the creature smiled. 

“No, it will not spread. Though I would not worry about living like anything, anymore. You are amongst the dead now, just as I am.” It explained in a level tone. El Renegado shook his head. 

“Why, you owe me an explanation, you jackanape! You had best start talking, er… What is it you are called?” 

“You may call me Wight for now,” the creature replied. It pulled a chair from the darkness and sat down in front of the cell. “And indeed, you are right. We have much to discuss.”


End file.
